


The Pursuit of Liberty

by little_abyss



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: (a very brief mention of), Activism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Abuse, Comfort, Established Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_abyss/pseuds/little_abyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Animal rights activists Anders and Hawke pursue direct action against the corporation Stannard Pharmaceuticals.  Things do not go entirely as planned.</p><p>Written for the prompt: "This is, without a doubt, the stupidest plan you've had.  Of course I'm in."  For the glorious accidental/dorianpink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pursuit of Liberty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [accidental](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidental/gifts).



> I noted on tumblr (where this first appeared) that I wasn't entirely happy with the ending... so here, have an extended remix if you like. accidental, you dear thing, you are suffering the brunt of me having to research a bunch of ALF resources for work... but I hope you like this anyway!

“So, we’re agreed? In and out in fifteen minutes, and,”  Hawke rubs his hands together, then counts the phrases on his fingers, “ _ Total liberation; no gods, no masters _ ; and  _ Meredith sucks _ ?”

“Yes to the first part,” Anders says and sighs, “And the first two are fine.  But not the last one.  We’re here to liberate as a first priority.  Just do the big A, it’s quicker.”  He stops the car and eyes the entrance to the compound, the large  _ Stannard Pharmaceuticals _ logo lit from underneath.  “Bloody hell.  This is, without a doubt, the stupidest plan you’ve had.”

 

“It’s not too late to…”

“No, no, of course I’m in.”  Anders grins as Hawke pulls up the black cloth over the lower part of his face.  “Are you ready?”

Hawke huffs out a breath and grabs the satchel at his feet by the handle.  The spray-paint and bolt cutters inside clank, and Hawke pulls the bag onto his lap.  “Yeah. Merrill said that the pens are on the ground floor in block E.  Rats and rabbits, basic pens.  She said there’s no primates here, they’re kept at another facility.”  His jaw clenches, and he mutters, “Those fucks.  Those fucking  _ fucks _ .”

 

Anders smiles sadly, then undoes his seatbelt to lean over.  He puts one hand on the seat next to Hawke, and pulls the black mask gently down with the other.  “I know,” he tells Hawke, “I know.  Small actions though, remember?  Little acorns and all that.”  He kisses Hawke gently on his mouth, smiles at the soft lips and scratchy stubble, and then Hawke is kissing him back, and he laughs, pushing Hawke back into his seat.  Hawke laughs too, and pulls up the mask again.  “Like a masked man, do you?”

 

Anders chuckles, ignoring the fluttering of nerves in his stomach.  “Maybe I do.  Maybe the idea that we’re going to do this together is kind of hot.  But don’t get too distracted, alright?”

“Eyes on the prize,” Hawke agrees, and undoes his seatbelt.  Anders moves out of the car and stands for a moment, looking at the large industrial lab complex.  The animal containment facility is on the eastern side of the campus.  They will have to be silent and fast to evade detection and release as many of the animals as possible.  But it can be done.  It has to be.

 

The perimeter fence doesn’t pose too much of a problem, and they are able to mostly keep out of the floodlights, clinging to the shadows.  Three times they see a security guard, and once, Hawke nearly drops his satchel.  He manages to catch it, but it clangs noisily, and they both wait in the artificial half-dark for the sound of alarm bells or running footsteps or  _ hey! you two!   _ Nothing happens, and they look at each other, Hawke’s dark eyes wide and wild above his mask, and finally Anders nods.  He can feel sweat prickle over his back, under his arms, and he tries to breathe as normally as he can.  Finally, they reach the labs.  

 

There are two locks - one on the door, and the other a deadbolt.  They had procured a copy of the deadbolt key through a contact, but had been told that the other was easily picked.  Anders watches, glancing up and down the narrow floodlit corridor between the blocks as Hawke concentrates. He must know what he’s doing, because a few moments later, the door swings open and Hawke looks up from his crouch and makes a grand gesture, ushering Anders inside.  Silently, Anders curtsies, and smiles down at Hawke.  They enter the silent building.

 

The place smells strange - the cold, chemical smell of cleaning fluid mixed with the warm, earthy smell of the animals who are held here.  Immediately, Hawke looks at the ranks of cages, frowning, then rattles the lock of the closest one.  He bends, unzips his satchel, and brings out the bolt cutters again.  They work quietly, as a team - Hawke cuts the locks open, and Anders follows him along the row, pulling out the locks from the doors of the cages and opening them.  The rats are first - inquisitive eyes peer at them from the thresholds of their cages, and then the first rat leaps lightly onto the floor, moving quickly to the opposite side of the room.  “No, out the door, you dummy,” Hawke hisses at it, but Anders shushes him.  Almost done now.  

 

The rabbits are more difficult.  None of them will come to the bars of their cages, let alone go anywhere.  Hawke huffs in annoyance, then slips the satchel off his shoulders.  “Hold this,” he whispers to Anders, who takes the proffered paint can.  Hawke picks the first rabbit up gently, and holds it, peering with concern into its eyes.  “Blind,” he says, and shakes his head.  He sighs, and puts the rabbit in his satchel, then takes the paint back from Anders, “You sure we can’t…”

 

“Lie down on the floor!”

 

They look at the door as a flashlight shines into the room, and Hawke laughs wildly.  Anders sighs a harsh breath and shakes his head, already putting his hands up, interlacing his fingers, placing the palms against his head.  He makes to kneel, and then Hawke is yelling something, something about oppressors, and then the guard is on him, tackling him to the ground.  Hawke is still yelling, and so is the guard, Anders can hear sirens in the distance, and he sighs, his eyes moving to the door as he watches the white rat creep over the threshold, to freedom.

 

Later, in the police car, they sit together, hands cuffed behind them.  Hawke sniffs, and says, very quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Anders asks, astonished.  He turns, looks at Hawke seriously, and sees that he is close to tears.  “You did nothing wrong.  Nothing wrong, and everything right.  We just… didn’t get lucky.  That’s all.”

“That’s true,” Hawke says ruefully, and then chuckles sadly, “Probably won’t be getting lucky for a while, all things considered.”

 

Anders leans over, kisses Hawke on the shoulder.  “Oh, I don’t know, love.  I feel pretty lucky right now.”  He smiles at Hawke as the police radio chatters, and in the bleak light of the cruiser, Hawke smiles back.

 

-|||-

 

“Don’t you two scrub up well?” Isabela laughs delightedly, and sets her briefcase down to straighten Anders’ tie.  She’s working pro bono, like she does on every case like theirs.  When she’d visited them for their bail applications, she’d almost rubbed her hands together at the thought of taking this to trial, and she looks no less eager now.  Anders slides his fingers inside the collar of his shirt, and pulls it away from his neck, frowning.  Isabela catches the gesture and raises an eyebrow, then asks, “Nervous?”

 

He shakes his head.  He’s done this before.  They stand outside in the hot sun, the pavement already radiating heat, despite the early hour.  Hawke shifts from foot to foot, his dark hair pushed back off his face and tied neatly, his brothers suit looking boxy and too short in the sleeves on him.  He looks dreadful - Anders smiles weakly, shuffles closer to him, gently touching their hands together, then linking the little fingers.  “No matter what happens,” he says quietly, as Isabela checks her phone and looks at the courthouse door, “No matter what, I love you.  You know that, right?”

 

“I know,” Hawke mutters back, and bumps their elbows together.  Quietly, they watch as a black town car parks, and several serious-looking men and women get out, gathering briefcases.  They stride past, all in a group, some deigning to look at Isabela and nod, others ignoring them entirely.  Hawke sighs a breath, and Anders feels his tension.  “Bloody hell,” Hawke says, “I hope this works.  I’m too pretty for jail.”  

Anders snorts quietly, and tells him, “It’ll work.  Isabela might be flashy, but she knows what she’s doing.”   _ I hope _ , he thinks, and crosses his fingers on the hand not holding Hawke’s.  As long as it’s not that bastard judge he had last time, the one who looked revolted at the very sight of him standing in the dock… He takes a deep breath, feels the flutter of nervousness in his stomach.  Isabela yawns ostentatiously, and looks at them, grinning.  “Well, come on then boys,” she says languidly, but Anders sees the hunch of her shoulders and surmises that she’s just as eager to get this over with as they are, “You’ve got a public appearance to make.”  And with that, she picks up her briefcase, does up the top button on her shirt and strides forward, climbing the steps to the courthouse.  

 

-|||-

 

“...oh Maker, I nearly  _ wet  _ myself trying not to laugh,” Isabela says, her wineglass half upraised to her mouth, “When Kristoff  _ wiped  _ the first lot of charges, that was enough, but when he imposed damages of the cost of  _ one white rat  _ for the second charge… Maker, the look on their faces...”  She cackles, takes a huge swallow of wine, and sighs, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with her fingers.  “Mind you, boys,” she says, her voice quieter now, more gentle, “We got lucky this time.  You know that pursuing these fucks through the courts takes time, right?  And we're working as fast as we can, but…”

 

“It’s not fast enough,” Hawke says, looking tired and worried.  “The system doesn’t work, you know that…”

“If I believed that, do you think I’d still be trying to work within it, dummy?  The system is  _ slow _ , but that doesn’t mean it’s entirely broken.  And… look, I hate to say this…” Isabela finishes the last of her wine, fishes underneath the table of the booth that the three of them sit at, “But until there are human lives affected by the practices or products of Stannard Pharma, there just isn’t the capacity to really hit them where it hurts.  The wallet.”  She blows out a breath, looks at her watch and says, “Aw, fuck.  Look, I’ve got a one o’clock I’ve gotta be at.  But good work today and…”  she chuckles, and leans forward, kissing Anders on one cheek, and then rising, moving around the table to hug Hawke and kiss his cheek as well.  “And it’s a small victory, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

 

Anders nods and tries to smile.  “Right.  Thanks Isabela.  You were brilliant.”

“I know, darling.  I always am,” she smirks, then puts her handbag over her shoulder and winks, before walking away.  Anders watches her go, then looks back at Hawke.  He looks miserable, staring at his glass of water, moving it around in circles on the tabletop in a desultory fashion.  Anders frowns slightly, then reaches across the table to him.  “Hey,” he says, stroking one finger over the back of Hawke’s hand, “What’s up?”

 

Hawke shakes his head.  “Nothing,” he says gloomily, and sighs.  Then he looks up sharply and asks, “If we got lucky, why do I feel like shit?”

Anders sighs and smiles weakly, “Probably because you feel like the action wasn’t worth it.  It’s a bit of a pyrrhic victory, this one.  Sure, we tied them up in court, and sure, we know now that that judge, Kristoff, is at least a little friendly to our cause.  But we didn’t save any lives.  We might have made more direct action harder in the future.”  He pauses, slides his fingers under to stroke Hawke’s palm, and Hawke moves his hand until they are holding each other.  Hawke’s fingertips are wet with the condensation on the side of his glass, but the sensation is not unpleasant on a hot day like today.  Anders sighs, and tries to smile, to cheer Hawke up.  “I get it.  But… look, I don’t believe in martyrs.  You can’t do anything from a prison cell.  So let’s count today as a victory, and keep marching forward.”

 

Hawke nods and smiles slightly.  He stares at the glass of water for another moment, then looks up cheekily, grinning.  “You know,” he says slyly, and grips Anders hand a little tighter, “I could always wear that mask again.  Since you liked it so much the last time.”

Anders snorts and chuckles, then rolls his eyes.  He feels a heat creep through him; not only at the thought of Hawke, but the cause they share, and he smiles back and tightens his own grip.  “Eyes on the prize,” he growls, and Hawke grins. 

“Looks like we really  _ will _ get lucky this time,” he laughs, and Anders joins him.


End file.
